


Rules for Running Away

by PurpleMango



Series: Rules For Finding One's Self [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Memories, Multi, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Protective Clint Barton, Red Room (Marvel), Safehouses, Self-Destruction, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:25:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 18,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleMango/pseuds/PurpleMango
Summary: Natasha doesn't know how to deal with her feelings, she's spent so long running from them that she doesn't know any other way.Running from the red room, running from SHIELD, running from attachments.Now she finds herself running from the team, from the only home she has.





	1. On Your Marks, Get Set...

Walk slowly when you run.

Actually running will attract unnecessary attention.

So walk slowly when you run, because to move quickly betrays that you’re the prey. 

And then once they notice you’re the prey, they’ll start their hunt.

Most times, the prey does not survive the hunt.

 

These were the first lessons Natasha learned about running away. 

And ever did she follow them as she ducked into the crowd, lifting a man’s ballcap and twisting her hair up into it.

She thought she could do it.

She thought that she’d get used to people turning their backs to her, letting her sleep in beds without handcuffs, showing her trust unlike she’d known before. 

But it was too much.

 

She knew that Clint would find her, he knew her too well to not in the end, but she had a few safehouses even he didn’t know about. She’d run as long as she could, try to sort out her thoughts.

But she knew that like the other times, she’d be hunted.

And that, more than anything, left her steps feeling more hurried.


	2. Hoarding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The media was already on her. There were already headlines about how she hadn’t been there when the battle ended and the team came together.

Natasha had made it to her safe house in North Carolina, collapsing on the worn armchair in exhaustion. 

The media was already on her. There were already headlines about how she hadn’t been there when the battle ended and the team came together.  She knew that the media was behind the curve though. 

Tony would know by the way she didn’t quip at him over the coms. (She’d dropped it before leaving.)

She was sure Steve saw her go into the crowd.

Bruce would know by the fact she wasn’t by his side, lullaby at the ready. (And her guilt was still eating away over  _ that _ . People might have gotten hurt.)

She was glad that Thor wasn’t called in for the battle, or he’d definitely see, and unlike Steve, he’d have no problems calling her out on it.

And Clint… Clint would have known the second her stance shifted, the second that she started to walk away. That was, if he hadn’t-  She decided suddenly, that she needed some tea, and made her way to the sink. She focused on the menial task of making tea, shaking all her other thoughts from her head.

 

Natasha found the small box under a loose floorboard, and upon opening it, found herself frowning.

Instead of the small trinkets she’d collected over the years she was expecting, she found a note.

**Hey Nat!**

**Found this when I was raiding your safe house.**

**Figured you wouldn't mind it I put them with your stash at the Tower.**

**:P**

**Clint**

Natasha shoved the note in her pocket before putting the empty box away, grabbing the go-bag in the closet and walking to the car she’d stolen. 

She called up the real estate agent for the house, telling them she wanted the house gone. Hanging up, she knew that the house would get sold and money would show up in an account she’d put off to the side.

She saw that there were messages on the burner phone, likely Stark or Steve, as Clint probably took the number when he invaded the safe house.

Opening the go-bag, she found that on top there was a blue rubber ball. The same type of rubber ball that they used to throw at each other during long missions, toss back and forth when in captivity, bounce off the walls of the jet while Coulson flew and ignored them.

She opened the window, throwing out the phone.  She grabbed the ball. Then paused, before setting it down again and closing the window. 

She figured that she could always start a new hoard of trinkets.

It wasn’t like she’d see the other hoard again.

 

The pile of stuff behind a painting in her room in the tower, things she’d kept over the years.

The first gun that Fury had let her fire when she got to SHIELD. 

The pin that Maria had pressed to her hands one day without a word, the one that was shaped like a spider and had a red hourglass on it. 

The ticket stub of the first movie she saw in the theaters when she came to America.

An arrowhead she’d stolen from Clint.

The ballerina figurine that Phil had set on the table on day in the middle of a silent lunch.

The first pair of Widow Bites Stark had made her.

A piece of fabric she’d found on the ground after the Battle of New York; red whites and blues stained with blood that if tested, would be enhanced.

A set of broken glasses made for hazel eyes that occasionally turned bright green out of rage.

The simple silver disk of otherworldly material she’d fished out of rumble.

A knife that she’d lifted, it’s color scheme green and gold, glinting dangerously.

Her chest ached as she thought about never seeing those small things again, but she kept her face calm and drove on.


	3. Pit Stop

At her next safehouse in Indiana, a small apartment, she found a vase of wilted flowers. 

And another empty box. 

With another note.

**Tasha!**

**You think that you can keep these secret from me?**

**I despise that notion.**

**Your stuff’s at the Tower.**

**Your ever loyal hawk,**

**Barton <3**

She knew what was missing from the box.

The worn, bloodstained ballet shoes that she’d taken from the Red Room.

A bullet they pulled out of the engineer she was trying to protect in Odessa. The one that the Winter Soldier had shot through her.

A dusty black eye patch she’d stolen from Fury.

She made a face, shoving the box back into the vent, note already in her pocket. Calling up another real estate agent as she got into her car.

 

At a rest stop in Indiana, she opened the go-bag that she’d taken from the apartment.

She found a plastic wristband, like the ones people got in hospitals, with the name ‘Nicole Reed’.  The hospital tag that she’d gotten when Clint had to take her in to get a spear removed from her hip. 

He’d been so mad at himself, sullen until she finally slapped him and told him that she didn't need his permission to die. Then she’d sighed and ruffled his hair, saying that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Frowning at the tag, she made her way North.


	4. Fun and Games

In Minnesota, she found her ranch house hadn’t been ransacked. 

The box was still littered with trinkets.

Her first letter for a jury duty that she didn’t attend addressed to Nancy Roberts. 

A piece of paper with a random phone number some guy slipped her, that Clint had snatched and dunked in his coffee, frowning at the guy. The phone number was illegible, but she’d laughed and dried it off later, saving it for the memory of Clint's face.

A Polaroid of Coulson sleeping, dick drawn on his face and Clint grinning at the camera.

A letter from SHIELD saying Clint Barton was dead, eventually leading to the mess that was Budapest.

And multiple notes that Clint had written for her over the years, either passive aggressive or goofy.

 

Natasha ordered some groceries from the local farmers market, trusting Tony would have JARVIS scanning for her face. Waiting until they were sitting on the porch, the person having left, she putting them away and making a pot of hot chocolate.

She hunched in the hanging egg chair in the corner, trying to picture what Clint’s face had been when they told him that’d she’d run. 

Not that she really needed to imagine. 

She knew his lips would pull into a frown, lines on his forehead creasing, before he would make his face go blank. She knew he would smile, make some quip about how she needed to ‘spin her own web’. She could hear his voice, the same tone he used when they were told that Coulson had died.  Indifferent with a touch of bitterness.

She knew he would feel bad for a day, mope around the tower, probably even sleep in her bed for a night. 

Then she knew she’d be hunted down. Ruthlessly.

He’d be mad. Furious right until she looked him in the eyes.

 

She knew that from the many times she’d tried to run. She knew if she tried to run too long without facing him he would get violent. That she would be taken in, one way or another.

She wasn’t free. 

Not by a long shot.

She belonged to SHIELD, and when that failed, she belonged to Clint Barton.

He’d laid claim on her life when he chose to save her instead of kill her. They both knew that. They knew that they were each others many times over. 

Even though he had laid the first claim, she’d saved him just as many times.

She knew that there was no point in running. But that didn’t stop her from doing it every few years.

 

By now it was a game.

How long she could stay away? 

How long it took for him to hunt her down?

The record was six months, but that was also her first attempt. She had three times the safehouses, three times the will. She was also a ghost at the time.

The latest game had lasted two weeks. 

SHIELD had helped. 

He’d broken one of her ribs, having a nasty gash on his arm before she’d given in and looked him in the eyes.

Briefly she wondered how long it would take him this time, but then pushed the thought away in favor of opening a book.


	5. Confrontation

Natasha wasn’t surprised when on the seventh day of relaxing in her ranch house, a perimeter sensor went off. 

Glancing out the window, she holstered three knives, leaving her guns to the side. 

There was a limit to what they’d use on each other. 

Rules to the game.

 

She heard the door get broken open, before climbing out on the roof and sliding down the drainpipe. 

She ran past Tony and Bruce with a smirk, dodging the hands that Steve tried to grab her with. But he stopped trying to grab her when a venomous voice rang out. “SHE’S MINE!”

Natasha glanced back, seeing a man standing on the roof where she’d escaped. She shot the others a wink. “Sorry boys. It’s part of the rules. You might have helped him find me, but he has to bring me in.”

Thor looked pleased with that explanation. He laughed merrily, clapping, while the others looked stunned. “A game! Wonderful!” 

As soon as Clint’s feet were on the ground, she was on a motorcycle she’d been keeping in the bushes for just this purpose, sunglasses on. She blew a kiss behind her, tearing off.

Of course there was ways for him to follow.  She wasn’t sure she’d ever go anywhere Clint wouldn’t be able to follow.

There was another bike in the garage, a truck in the barn.

 

Natasha was on the highway by the time she saw a motorcycle catching up, with both the truck and her car flanking it.

She sped up, weaving through cars like she’d taught herself in the six months during her first run, then perfected as time went on. 

If she stayed still the game was over.  So she learned to give a good chase.

The motorcycle pulled up beside her, weaving in and out of cars just as expertly, but when she looked over, she saw Steve. A frown on his face.  So he’d been brought into the game.  She glanced over, and found her car on the other side of her. 

Clint had told them. All of them.

The hairs on her arm stood straight up, and then she was braking suddenly, stopping just shy of Thor, who’d landed in the middle of the road with a crack of lightning. She leaped off her bike, flipping over Thor, and starting to run. She noticed that Stark had cleared the area of cars.

She ran for the edge of the highway, jumping. Her timing was good enough that she landed on a semi-truck. 

However, two of the tires blew out and she slid down the windshield, landing on the ground just as Stark dropped Clint a little ways away. Thor and Bruce touched down a little ways away, Steve dropping onto the Semi like she had.

She grinned viciously. “So, looks like you got some help. Couldn’t find me without running to Stark?”

Clint’s sneer was just as venomous. “I never need help finding you Natalia. I just wanted to get this foolishness over with. You know that a pack should  _ hunt  _ together.”

She could feel the weary eyes on them as they started to circle each other. “ _ Pack?  _ I see no such thing. Coulson’s  _ dead  _ Clint. Where’s this  _ pack  _ you talk of?”

“Is that what this is about? Coulson? We did that hunt Natalia. That’s done.”

She shot forward, giving him a cut across the thigh for that comment.

Bruce started to move forward, face worried, but Clint gave him a death glare. “Stay BACK!”

She tisked. “You didn’t explain did you? Just the basics right? What kind of a pack is that you keep secrets from?” She danced away when he tried to kick her way. “Oooh. You might need their help Barton. You’re  _ slow  _ when you’re wounded.”

He narrowed his eyes.

She kept her face purposefully blank as they circled each other.

He stopped. “That’s it isn’t it? The battle?” 

She sneered. 

“The wound?” She lashed out, but it was slow enough that he caught it, holding her there. “ _ Natasha _ .”

“I didn’t give you permission to get hurt.” She sagged, but still kept her eyes down. “You all trust me to have your backs. It’s honestly insulting.”  She hoped he knew that by insulting she meant  _ terrifying _ .

Clint dropped her arm with a sigh. “So you ran.”

She nodded, shifting her weight, before looking him in the eyes, now tired. 

He pulled her into a hug. “Come on. Let’s go home. I got your stuff from the house.” She nodded, not trusting her voice. “Thor could you carry her to the car?”

She looked up, eyes narrowed, but he laughed and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna bring you in. There’s no running for you for a while.”

She relaxed. “Good. That was exhausting.” She waited until the handcuffs were on, and she was in the car before falling asleep on Clint’s shoulder.


	6. Explaining

She woke up on the couch of the tower, smelling eggs and bacon. She noticed the handcuffs were still on, and sat up, picking the lock.

“You going somewhere?”

She grinned up at Steve, who still looked a bit confused but also slightly angry. “Not for at least a year.”

He seemed to relax at that.

 

They ate breakfast in a strange silence.

“So what is this  _ game _ ?” Tony spoke up, because of course he would be the one to ask.

Natasha and Clint looked at each other. Clint nodded at her.  “It’s the way we communicate.”

Clint tilted his chair back. “It started when we were SHIELD agents. Natasha was originally with a program of the KGB that had brainwashed her to be an assassin, so she didn’t trust anyone much. About a year into her time at SHIELD, she ran away. We couldn’t find her for six months, Coulson and I. But when we did, we found she was upset that Coulson had given her his trust so easily and she didn’t feel she deserved it.”

She looked down at her hands. “It’s hard for me to talk things out.”

“So we made a game out of it. With rules. And that way we could talk through means that figured everything out and made everyone comfortable.”

“What are the rules?” Steve spoke up, still looking slightly uncomfortable.

“One has to be not to hurt each other too much. Natasha didn’t have her guns or widow bites on her.” Stark spoke up.

She looked up, nodding. “Each run has to have a reason. I can’t just up and do it for no reason. But it could be anything from ‘I feel like worthless when my partner gets injured’, too ‘I feel like a monster pretending to be a hero’.”

Clint looked at her with narrowed eyes and she knew they’d be talking about that later. “There’s a cool down of at least a year, because I can’t always be here to stop a run.”

“I can’t kill during the run. Or steal unless necessary.”

“I usually give her a head start. So we both have time to think about why the run was triggered.”

“Anyone can help find me,” She grinned, “But they can’t stop a run, and if they try then I have all liberty to get away from them. Also if anyone else brings me in but Clint, or previously Coulson, then I don’t have to wait a year because the hunt isn’t over.”

“Others, unless we change the rules, can’t touch her during the hunt, only provide distractions and blocks.” 

She looked them each in the eyes. “The hunt isn’t over until the issue is brought up and I give up the run. Usually communicated through eye contact or body language.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “So we can’t do anything about this?”

She and Clint locked eyes across the table, fighting with eye contact. Finally she sighed, nodding. “Fine.”

Clint grinned. “It’s up to you, but i’m not always gonna be in the shape to bring her in, and sometimes it will be harder. We got lucky today. Because of the cool down period, usually the run is longer and she won’t give in until we are both beaten up.”

Tony gasped, pointing at them. “That- That was why you disappeared after the Battle of New York and then came back with injuries!”

Bruce frowned lowly at them both. “Natasha, you had two broken ribs!”

Clint cringed, giving her apologetic eyes. “Sorry about that.” 

“Not your fault.” She looked at the boys. “If you participate in a hunt you’ll understand. Coulson’s shot me before and he’s the calmest guy I know.”

Steve looked disturbed by that thought. “And you’re… okay with this?”

Clint looked at her, and she stared at Steve before chuckling. “I started the game. We worked out the rules. Why would I do it if I didn’t want to?”

Stark eyed her. “Is this some type of… Kink?”

Steve turned red.

She snorted. “Kind of. But in a non sexual way. It’s the way that Clint and I sort out our problems and let off steam. Like sparring, but more extreme.”

“So.” Clint looked around the table. “Anyone wanna join the hunt?”

Stark shrugged. “I guess I will.”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t trust the Hulk with something like this. But i’ll help.”

Thor grinned. “I will play this game!”

They all looked at Steve. He shifted, but nodded slightly. “Sure I guess.”

Natasha grinned at Clint. “Then it’ll be up to all of you if it’s a pack hunt or a fox hunt.” She looked at all of them. “Together… or apart.”

“Like a race?” Thor cheered. “I will surely win!”

“The time limit was mostly because of the lack of people involved. Do we want to change it?” Clint looked at her, but posed the question to the group

Stark looked at Natasha. “It isn’t healthy to keep that inside for a year. I would say minimum two weeks.”

Natasha grinned. “Guess I’ll have something to look forward to. But right now I need some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this based off my instincts to just up and run every time that things go wrong.  
> I understand that this is not really a normal dynamic, and that this might seem kinda strange, but, well it's my fic... so...


	7. Red Ledger

They’d been fighting a wizard who seemed sure that Natasha was the weakest of the group, taunting her and using his magic to play with her. At one point the wizard even made a comment about her figure and how her uniform fit, but it wasn’t until the wizard changed her uniform that she got mad.

Instead of her upgraded spandex suit that Stark had made her after their last hunt when he accidentally hit her too hard (giving her a concussion), she was now in a schoolgirl uniform. 

And people were taking pictures of her.

She bowed her head, pretending to shy away from the cameras and pulling a the clothes nervously.

“Aww... Did the little girl get upset?”  The wizard taunted, putting up a barrier between the two of them and the rest of the Avengers, the others pounding on the barrier but not even budging it. T he man pressed up against her back, wrapping his arms around her.  “Don’t worry darling. I’ll protect you.”

She grabbed his arms, flipping him over her shoulder, before drawing the gun in her thigh holder and shooting him in the face. Her face was dry, lips pursed. “Don’t patronize me.”

The barrier faded, but no one moved.

The street was silent for a moment, then Natasha was sprinting to the jet, the door sealing itself and taking off.

Tony’s faceplate flipped up. “I’ll call another jet. JARVIS is tracking that one.”

 

Back at the Tower, they all got out of their uniforms and into comfortable clothes, meeting up in the common room. 

Bruce was making food, having stayed behind at the Tower. “So…” He looked them over, eyes seeming to linger on the empty space, the missing person. “She ran?”

Clint nodded. “Took the jet.”

Tony tapped away at his tablet. “She disabled the tracking, but JARVIS said the plane landed in Hawaii.”

“She's not there.”

They all looked at Bruce. “She was complaining about how expensive houses are there. She doesn't have a safe house in Hawaii.” 

“It works better in big cities...” Thor spoke up. “This game?”

Clint nodded slowly. “Yeah... She hardly ever goes somewhere small because it's harder to blend in.”

Tony frowned. “I'll get JARVIS to make a list of her safe houses. The ones we know about.”

There were a few minutes of silence.

“Why'd she run?” Steve looked deep in thought. “We already talked about her image and how she feels oversexualified…”

Tony snorted. “That outfit probably didn't help though.”

Clint waved his hand. “Lets focus on the hunt. No one is hurt, so we might think about a fox hunt. Sound good?”

They all looked at each other, Tony smirking from his perch on the counter.  “Sounds great. So another win for me?”

Bruce shook his head. “You all have your own methods. I'm not sure who'll win, but I'm sure about one thing... She's gonna be hard to bring in.” 

They looked at him, where he was holding a tablet, article in view. The title was in bold letters.  **‘Is The Black Widow Being Forced To Fight?’**

Bruce faced looked pinched. “The article’s all about our hunts, but they took it out of context. Like she's being forced to be a part of the team and that we're punishing her each time she tries to run away.”

“She's not gonna like that... If she hasn't already seen it. When did it come out?”

A grimace. “Three days ago.”

Tony pursed his lips. “So she's seen it. And it probably upset her, but she didn't run then…”

Steve nodded. “Because it would have only add to the story.”

“So then this happens with the dumb magic guy…” Clint sighed. “And now she probably feels twice as guilty.”

“Twice?” Thor puzzled.

“She killed someone. On a regular bad-guy-run. In front of cameras.” 

The whole team winced, knowing that she didn't like to kill on missions, much less on standard capture-and-release missions like this one.

Clint stood. “Lets get rested up. I have a feeling we’ll need it.”

Tony was already typing an email to Pepper, frowning. “I'm gonna schedule a press conference tonight. We need to tell the public about this. At least the basics, so that they don't assume that we're fighting each other for no reason.”

Steve's face twisted into a deep frown. “And what do we say?”

“I think I have an idea…”

Natasha sat in the passenger seat of a semi-truck, having parachuted from the jet once it was on autopilot. The older man was happy to help, but wouldn't shut up about his kids. Eventually she faked being asleep, so he would stop talking and turn the radio on. 

However, she found herself listening to something she wasn't expecting.

_ “So Black Widow isn't running away?” _

Tony’s voice was smooth through the radio, but she could tell he was wearing his fake media smile.  _ “No, Black Widow is highly trained in secret ops, so these ‘hunts’ as we call them are merely testing the team’s response time and ability to bring in dangerous individuals.” _

The reporter hummed noncommittally. _ “So she  _ agrees _ to being beat up?” _

_ “We have rules.”  _ She could hear the strain in Tony’s voice _. “And we have a limit to how far we go. She knows this and would tell us if we went too far.” _

_ “Sounds like just the game for super powered individuals with too much time.” _

There was a short chuckle from the genius, but she could tell he was aggravated even without seeing his face. _ “Our training is to keep you safe.”  _ She heard a chair scrape across the floor. _ “Thank you for your time. I have important business… Oh, and just so  _ **_everyone_ ** _ out there knows, Hawkeye’s favorite animal is a fox.” _

The code was almost to obvious.  It was a fox hunt. 

But that didn’t matter anymore.

They were lying for her.  Lying about the game, b ecause it wasn’t normal.

She knew that no one would understand, but it was harder to see that evidence first hand.

She moved slightly so she could look out the window, turning over what had happened in her brain. She knew that she shouldn’t have run, that when she read the article she told herself she would try to talk out what bothered her (like a normal human being)...  And then she found herself staring down at that man, gun in hand and a bloody hole in his forehead.  People taking pictures of her murder someone, of her standing over a man she’d killed.

And she didn’t know what to do but run.  This time, there would be no going back. 

She pressed herself back into the chair, bringing Bruce’s hoodie tighter around her. It smelled like chemicals, but she found it strangely comforting. 

_ “Earlier this morning, Black Widow killed a supervillain. But we’re here asking, Why? All he’d done was pull some magical pranks on the citizens of New York.”  _

Natasha turned to look at the radio, wishing she could see the broadcasters face. Wishing that she could see the twitches and tells that would let her know if they actually believed what they were saying.  The woman’s voice was sickly sweet. _ “I’m here with an expert on superheroes, Dr-” _

Natasha’s hand hit a different station before she knew what she was doing. 

The man looked at her weirdly. 

“Sorry, just wanted some music.” She threw a fake smile his way, turning back to watch the fields of corn pass.


	8. Deactivation

She traveled through a system of hitchhiking, avoiding highly populated areas and any type of surveillance that JARVIS could get to. Eventually, outside of the Modoc Forest in California, she waved goodbye to the last driver, and made her way through the woods. 

Nestled in the trees by a little lake was a hunting cabin. Her hunting cabin.

No one knew about it.

It didn’t have cell phone reception, electronics, or any way for it to be traced back to her, because when she’d found it, she been lost. Lost in the woods after her plane came down on a solo mission. 

She’d found a man in the cabin, brains splattered against the wall. 

Now the wall was pristine, the only thing left a blood-splattered paining. It was one of her favorites actually. A true masterpiece.

She knew that this house didn’t have a box. There was no secret treasures in this place.  The only out-of-use trinket she could hide in this place was herself.

She put Bruce’s hoodie, Steve’s t-shirt, Tony’s jeans, Clint’s boots, and the sparkly hair tie that Thor used; into a drawer. 

There was no place for family in this cabin.  There was no fox hunt. 

It was over. 

This was that time she thought wouldn’t come.  When she went to a place that they couldn’t follow.

Opening the gun chest and reaching past the rifle to one of the hand guns, she turned it over in her hand. 

She moved the painting, sitting on the same chair she’d found the man, loading the same gun that she’d found in his hands.

She sunk into the armchair, staring at the gun.

 

The first month they did nothing but search. 

There was a board, listing all of Natasha’s known safehouses, all her possible alias’ in the common room. JARVIS was working on her facial scan and known associates with most all of his processing power.

They went through her room.  They ransacked all of the safe houses they knew.  Then they found other safe houses when those were empty.

No one mentioned the metal boxes that Clint would bring back, carrying them oh-so-carefully.

No one mentioned how Clint didn’t sleep in his room anymore.

The second and third month, Clint refused to go on missions, staring at a map of the world lifelessly. Every once and a while he’d jump up and call someone, but after each call, he just seemed to get worse.

Tony worked on new Widow Bites. He was trying to constantly improve something on Natasha’s tool belt, or making her guns shoot straighter. 

Until one day, Clint snapped at the inventor, saying his annoying upgrades were probably why Natasha felt so under-appreciated. 

No one saw Tony for a week.

Pepper slapped Clint.

Bruce went back to spending more time in Africa.

Thor made excuses to be in Asgard.

 

The fourth, fifth, and six month came and passed.

JARVIS now barely used 2% of his processing power to search for Natasha.

Steve found he could only draw red and black spiders, ballerinas, and a red-headed assassin who he could never seem to draw smiling.

And when the seventh month hit, Clint and Tony got into a fight, Clint flying out the next day to go look for Natasha in a different country.

Steve claimed he needed to see America, even though Tony knew he had bought an apartment in Brooklyn.

The Avengers were split up.  The media called it ‘The Widow Effect’ and dragged Natasha’s name through the mud.

But then after the eighth month, when crime went up throughout the US, the media begged for Black Widow to come back. 

Begged her to help them. 

Begged her to become a hero again, to fix the Avengers.

Each of the Avengers watched the news with a mixture of hate and guilt, while hoping she appeared.

By the end of the ninth month, they’d all given up.

Clint holed up in one of Natasha’s London apartments, drinking steadily.

Steve didn’t touch his sketchpad, working out every chance he got.

Thor found new battles, no matter how obscure, to fight in.

Tony barely came out of his workshop, Iron Man forgotten.

Bruce hid in a second-hand country, trying to forget.

Never once did they talk to each other, because what was the point?


	9. Returning to Fight

She waited. 

She was patient.

Eventually she’d be able to do it.

But to pass her time, she trained. 

Shooting deer from distances that rifles were not meant for was entertaining, for a while. But after she shot a target, only to throw up in the snow once she got close enough to realize it was a fawn, she moved on. She made sure to only kill adult Elk from then on.

Fighting bears was fun and kind of interesting, until she compared the bear’s slowness to Thor in her mind. She quickly found something else to do.

She tried swimming in the lake, but the stinging cold reminded her of the red room, so she didn’t try it again.

Eventually all she could do was read the assortment of books she’d hid away over the years, practice her different languages, and dance.

Winter came and passed.

She perfected her fouette down to the movement, hearing Madame Headmistress in her head like she was in the red room.

Her russian was accented again, spanish and french smooth.

 

Nine months passed, and she finally decided to leave the cabin.

Natasha wasn’t going to get anywhere sitting here, that sinking hole just filling with longing instead.

She put on the clothes sitting in the bottom drawer, delighting that they each still smelled like her home, her family.

She hiked into a nearby town, paying for a bus ticket to Las Vegas.

 

Sitting on a bench with the small duffle bag of spare clothes she’d taken with her, she overheard a teenager ranting to her friend. “She can’t be gone! I refuse to believe that the  _ Black Widow, professional assassin _ , just up and died!”

“Mindy I know that it’s hard to believe, she was my favorite Avenger too, but that  _ has  _ to be why they broke up!”

Natasha’s eyes widened, and she turned to find a computer.

She found herself at the local library, not believing what she saw. Article after article talked about the Avengers going their own ways, and though most blamed her, a lot were going on about the sheer ridiculousness of men.

She nodded. Seemed pretty ridiculous to her.

Natasha got onto the bus, determined to fix this.

 

There was no time for reading or watching the scenery. She called up her contacts, asking for two messages to be sent. She knew that Steve and Bruce would get them, and the contacts would tell Clint whether she wanted them too or not. 

She hoped JARVIS was still at least somewhat looking for her.

And as she got off the bus in Las Vegas, she turned her eyes skyward. “Heimdal. If you can hear me, you know that Thor is not himself. Pass him a message, will you?”

Somewhere in Africa, a little boy ran into a medical tent.

Brown eyes flickered green for a second, before a smile crossed chapped lips and the man started to pack.

Time for his vacation to end.

There’s a knock on the door of a small apartment in Brooklyn. 

When a tall blonde man answers, he finds only a note. 

Flipping it open, he shakes his head and goes to get his stuff together, before driving his motorcycle towards the tall tower with the large A in the middle of New York.

He was needed again.

A phone rings, and it takes a few seconds for a rough voice to answer.

One side speaks quickly, but the other doesn’t believe them, hanging up.

A few minutes later, another person repeats the message to the man.  He hangs up again, but then after a second, whispers “Finally.”

He catches the first plane possible.

She’d have hell to pay for what she’d pulled.

A man sits in an empty common room, staring at a board with pictures tacked up, all of the same woman.  He has a drink in one hand, the other on the back on the side of the sofa, eyes blank.

A voice says his name, but gets ignored. The voice tries again and again, with no response.

A picture of a familiar woman with long red hair appears in the air in front of the board.

She’s looking directly at the camera, hood down, a taunting smirk on her lips.

The man sits forward, drink clattering to the ground. “She-”  He laughs for the first time in months, clapping and telling the AI to get his suit out.

A large warrior fights viciously with his friends, but none of the three by his side come to his mind as he swings his hammer into the enemies face.

Honor didn’t feel as easy anymore.  Rage was easier to channel.

The battle is over in just a few swings.  He can feel wary eyes on him, but he ignores it.

Suddenly, he’s somewhere else, his eyes gold.

He sees a red-haired woman in a worn hoodie ginning up at the sky, taunting him.

When the vision passes, he hugs the three other warriors, laughing.

The Widow was back.

The game was on.


	10. Returning Together

They met in Central Park.

Thor touched down, burning a symbol into the grass.

Steve had parked his bike a little ways away.

Clint strode over, the bags under his eyes giving his exhaustion away.

Tony wore a jeans, a t-shirt, and a grin as the armor folded into a briefcase next to him.

Bruce had his arms crossed, already sitting on a park bench.

They all looked each other over.

“Are we doing this together?” Tony glanced at Clint, remembering their argument.

“We get there together. But make no mistake, this is a fox hunt.” Clint’s voice was rough, his eyes burning. “I wanna make sure she knows how much that hurt.” He glanced around. “We all in?”

They all nodded, before looking to Bruce.  His eyes flashed green. “Let’s go.”

Clint nodded. “First one to get the surrender gets to pick dinner for the next week.”

The jet landed, all of them getting in and getting their armor ready.

Natasha was standing in the middle of the Las Vegas fairgrounds, having called in a favor and gotten a contact to drop off a set of her knives and a suit for her.

It was strange to put back on the Widow uniform. Like putting glasses on and realizing that she hadn’t been seeing correctly.  It felt comfortable, like home.

She’d walked right in, the security guards not even stopping her as they stared in awe.

Her hair was cut, and she felt every single person’s eyes as she stopped in the middle of the fairgrounds, taking a empty chair and sitting down. She let her eyes slip closed in the picture of relaxation.

Apparently her tossing up a knife and catching with her eyes closed was enough to keep people away, because no one said a thing or approached her.

She almost thought they weren’t going to come, when she heard the sound of the jet.  People started talking excitedly and filming as it landed outside the fairground gates.  She turned herself backwards on the chair, watching.

The Iron Man armor landed only a few hundred feet away, Thor touching down next. But they stayed where they were, waiting.

She saw the guards at the gate scramble to let Steve in, uniform standing out as he marched through the crowd to stand next to Tony. 

Bruce strolled up next to Steve, but she saw his fists were clenched as she met his eyes.

There was still a space left in the middle of the line, and she stood smoothly as Clint stalked up. There were bags under his eyes that she’d scold him over later.  “So. You found me.” 

She tossed the chair to the side, eyeing the others.  “I have to admit, i’m disappointed. Nine months? That’s slow.” She looked at her nails with a pout. “And splitting up the boy band over me? Pathetic.”

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, sinking into a back bend to avoid a knife that would have hit her dead on. 

She flipped over, smirking. “Oh. Are you mad at me? Is _that_ how this is going to be?”

Clint looked at the others, then back to her, eyes burning. “On my count.”

She grinned. “Ooh you are mad!”

“5...”  She winked, cracking her knuckles.  “4… 3…” 

“ _Move back_!” She warned loudly, seeing the crowd seem to understand and scramble away from them.

“2...”

She waved them forward. “Bring it.”

“1!”

She dodged another knife, flipping away from Tony’s swing and sending a chair his way. A large arm made to grab her, but she took the God’s momentum to flip him over her. A roar shook the ground, and she danced back from the green beast, smile wide.  “Hey Hulk!”

“HULK **MAD** AT SPIDER!”

She raised an eyebrow and kicked Steve into Thor, dodging a punch from Tony. “Mad about what, big guy?”

“SPIDER LEFT! HURT BRUCE!”

She scoffed while evading Clint’s attacks. “I needed a vacation! Girl time!”

Clint caught her on the cheek with a knife. “So you _ leave for nine months _ ?”

She kicked him in the stomach, before a punch from Thor sent her across the grass. She chuckled lightly, starting to get up, when a large green hand picking her up by the ankle. “HULK  _ MISSED  _ SPIDER!”

She was flung into a bouncy castle, and it deflated as she stood, eyes cold. “So I came back. I gave you your game. You came together. You caught me.” She shrugged. “My job’s done.”

Clint hit her across the face. “ _ Stop acting like you’re replaceable _ !” 

She kicked him in the gut, making him stumble back, her eyes narrowed. “You think I _believe_ that you quit saving people just because _I left_?”

Steve knocked her backwards, and then Thor had his hand around her throat, lifting her up. “Do you know how long we searched for you Lady Natasha?”

Natasha gasped for air, and he dropped her to the ground. She looked up, surrounded, her voice coming out in a horse whisper. “It’s not right, this game. We all know that.”

Tony Stark scoffed, his face plate flipping up. “If this is about the lying, it was to calm some of the tension. We were planning on having another press conference  _ after  _ the hunt.”

She felt someone grab her, and suddenly Bruce was hugging her tightly. “If the Hulk can do a hunt without hurting anyone, you can be a hero. It doesn’t matter if you shot that one guy. You saved many more lives than you think... He had a magical bomb that was going to go off and was distracting us, but with him dead, it didn’t go off.”

She was let go, and blinked, letting that sink in. 

“So. You ready to go home? I think that we should have a talk.” Steve raised an eyebrow at her.

“Ready.” 

She was thrown over Clint’s shoulder, and she could _hear_ the man grin. “I think that handcuffs would give the wrong impression.” 

Natasha laughed as they walked out of the fairgrounds, blowing kisses to the security guards.

“Stop that. We might have to fight  _ them _ .” Tony glared at her.

She just smiled at him innocently, waving instead.

Natasha was laying across Clint and Thor’s laps when she woke up from her nap, rubbing her eyes. 

“G’morning sleeping beauty.” 

She blinked up at Clint, who was fiddling with a familiar ring. It was one that he’d won for her from the first carnival she’d gone to, its cheap metal now dull but the small red gems still shiny. (She assumed they were a type of plastic though.)

“I thought you'd leave my hoard alone now that I'm back.”

He smiled, slipping the ring on her ring finger gently. “Not until you confess that you're a sappy idealist.”

She snorted, moving her neck back to look at Thor, hissing as it hurt around where her throat and chin met. “Hey blondie.”

Thor gave her a weak smile. “I'm sorry.”

 “Way to kill the mood…" She frowned. "What're you sorry for?” (She knew exactly what he was saying sorry for.)

Steve showed up with two ice packs. “You have some excessive bruising along your broken rib and-” he motioned to her neck, “Where Thor got carried away.”

“It's okay.” She took one of the ice packs, laying it on her neck and then wincing when Clint put the other on her ribs. “Never specified that as off limits.”

“So she  _ is  _ into kinky shit.” Tony peaked out from the kitchen, grinning. “Knew it.”

She rolled her eyes, changing the subject so Steve didn’t explode from embarrassment. “So, when's this big life changing talk?”

Tony made a disappointed clinking sound with his tongue. “Bruce is making pancakes! Well all know pancakes _always_ come first!” 

She shrugged and curled tighter around the two warm bodies she was on.


	11. Interrogation

Smells of fresh food and a hand shaking her shoulder gently woke her up. She scrunched up her face, realizing she’d fallen asleep again. 

Thor peered down at her with a slight smile. “Pancakes are here.”

She slowly, gingerly moved herself upright so she was sitting in between her archer and the God. “Oh good, real food. I’ve been living off elk meat and frozen water.”

They all looked taken aback at that.

She snorted. “Not joking.”

“Is that why I can feel your ribs?” Clint poked at her side.

She slapped his hand away. 

A full plate of pancakes was placed before her, but she snagged the coffee first, sipping it and nearly melting into the sofa. “Wow. Never thought i’d enjoy coffee worth more than everything I own, but that is wonderful.” She smirked at Tony. “Better than cooking it over a fire.”

Tony scoffed, looking appalled at the thought.

“Were you really in the US?” Clint was frowning down at his plate.

Natasha nodded. “But it’s not somewhere you’d ever look. Don’t worry. I knew you couldn’t find me there.”

“So you did this on purpose... Why?” Steve looked slightly heartbroken.

The sudden urge to run from the room made her tense, but Clint narrowed his eyes and produced a pair of handcuffs, clipping her left hand to the table. 

She relaxed. It was like an interrogation. She was trained for interrogations, knew exactly what to do if they went wrong .

“Handcuffs. They should make me restless, being trapped... but where I came from we slept handcuffed to our beds.” Natasha ignored the looks of horror and surprise. “I don’t remember my life before the red room. That was my childhood. And we were trained to never have problems with our environments. If we did, we were punished.”

The room was silent.

She took a bite of the pancakes, washing it down with the coffee before speaking again.  “I was a failure. On my last test I refused to kill a child. So they decided that they would start the program over again, dispose of me…. But I guess they trained me well enough to burn the program down.” She sighed. “I still, in the back of my brain, hear their words when I fight. And no spy can work properly when they're out in the light. I’d been fighting with that for a while, and so that day it made sense to… decommission myself.”

Steve choked on his coffee, turning to look at her with wide eyes.  Tony made a small sound of distress, she heard Bruce suck in a small breath, and Thor’s arm around her tightened slightly.  She could feel Clint’s gaze on her as well, but she didn’t dare look at him. 

At any of them.

“I had all the means to end the red room’s legacy, that day. End that line of knowledge with myself. I even changed out of the clothes i’d stolen from the jet, stored away any piece of sentiment before I picked up that gun… But in the end I couldn’t do it.”

She took a few more bites of pancake and didn’t dare directly look into any of their eyes.

“So why didn’t you come back?” Tony’s voice was hitched, and she knew that he was close to tears.

“I thought maybe if I stayed away long enough I could forget how to love again. If I killed and danced enough, somehow I would become Natalia Romanova again, the survivor of the red room who was unafraid of death. The girl who had no attachment to anyone...” She shook her head, managing out a short laugh. “But it didn’t work. None of the times could I do it. So finally I gave up on running, decided I’d come home.”

There were wet eyes now, no way to mistake it, and she was pulled into a group hug. 

As they calmed down, she ate her pancakes and felt something inside her lighten.

 

The next day, there were two pictures on the far wall of the common room.

One of her, smiling up at a gas station camera, hair a mess and bags under her eyes.  The other of her sleeping on Clint and Thor’s lap, their faces worried but soft as they looked down at her.

She smiled at them, not bothering to ask who put them up, because in the end it didn’t matter, she liked them.

She, Steve, and a new guy named Sam took down Project Insight.  She tried not to cringe every time someone brought up the Winter Soldier. 

Tried not to get sucked into flashbacks when she fought him. 

Tried not to doubt every good memory that Clint and her had until she did confirm; he wasn’t HYDRA. (That one eluded her though, and she breathed a lot better when he wasn’t on the list of HYDRA agents.)

But when it all ended and the helicarriers where disabled, she ran almost immediately.

Steve didn’t show up when it was time to bring her in, and she tried not to think too hard on why.


	12. Follow The Leader

Ultron was a huge fiasco, and the memories of the red room still haunted her, but the new faces were... interesting.

A boy and girl who were never apart from each other long, and an android who acted like a newborn in an adult’s body.

They were strange.

Natasha was just glad that she’d gotten so good with a rifle. The shot that took out the plane gunning for Clint (and evidently Pietro) was from across town, and even though neither Clint nor Pietro mentioned it or seemed to have any clue who took the shot, Wanda gave her a large hug afterwards.

The twins seemed to think she was their mother or something. They begged for their (shared) room to be next to hers, and followed her nearly everywhere.

Vision seemed interested in her too, but that she mostly put on the fact she was helping him catch up of how to be human. (Though she thought she was the worst person to teach that particular subject.)

She hadn’t gone on a run in forever, with everything she had to do and help with, and she ached to be on the road.

Away from this mess for even a day.

 

The perfect opportunity came after a long battle with humanoid fish creatures. All of the new faces were exhausted, and all of her other teammates were too busy cleaning up. So Natasha made herself a small bag, and took a motorcycle from the garage, heading to her safe house in Pennsylvania. She was at the house by dawn, and set about making herself a coffee, knowing she could take a moment here and still get to her next safe house by the time the hunt would start.

She was in the middle of making toast, when two upset teenagers appeared in her kitchen, the front door banging open and startling her into raising her weapons. “Why’d you leave!?”

After a second she lowered her gun, sighing. “I forgot that every move I make is your business.” They both flinched at the sharp words, and rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. “I didn’t mean to scare either of you... This is just my type of vacation.”

Natasha heard the whirring of the jet outside and closed her eyes in frustration for a second, before pouring her coffee in the sink and picking up her bag. Munching on the toast, she exited the house, face blank.

On the front lawn stood all of the others, everyone but Vision looking guilty.

She gave them a glare. “Really?” She looked down at her watch with a scowl. “Six hours?”

Vision frowned at how the five men behind him seemed to wilt. “You left in a hurry.”

She nodded with a huff, passing him and getting on the plane. “Yeah. There was a reason for that.”

 

The plane ride was tense, none of the original Avengers speaking, and the new three too confused to do so.

When they landed at the tower, Natasha turned on them, eyes cold. “I’m going to be in the gym. Don’t come in unless you want to die.” Her voice was a cold hiss and she saw all of them tremble slightly.

Good. They deserved it.

 

She took a shower and came down for dinner in sweats she’d stolen from Steve, wearing one of Tony’s band tees.

Vision was the first person to talk to her, partially because he’d just kinda appeared in front of her. “I know that I might not fully understand the purpose behind this ‘hunt’ the others explained, but I am sorry for any emotional grief my interference caused.” She nodded, a sign she appreciated his apology.

The twins caught up to her when she was piling spaghetti on her plate (one of the ways she knew Bruce was saying sorry _aside_ from the sad-lost-puppy-dog eyes he was giving her). “We’re very sorry.” It was Wanda who spoke, Pietro just kind of vibrating next to her with a sad look on his face.

Natasha turned to look at them. “You understand then?”

They glanced at each other, seeming to converse the way that she and Clint did silently, before both shaking their heads. “Not really.”

“Then you have no reason to be sorry.” She shot Vision a look, seeing as he was watching the interaction.

She went to turn around and put some vegetables on her plate, but was stopped by the two pulling her into a hug, only barely keeping her pasta on her plate. “Don’t leave us.”

She stilled for a second, before wrapping her arms around them and smiling. “I won’t. No reason to.”

She guessed this fuzzy feeling in her chest was as good as any hunt.

 

The next morning there was a picture of the three of them hugging hanging on the wall.

She smiled at it whenever she passed by it.


	13. Finding Winter

Natasha read the accords when Tony sent them to her and Clint. And even though they were in a small town in Alaska, hunting down a guy who apparently had some notes from HYDRA about the Winter Soldier, she made sure Clint knew what the accords where about.

Some of parts of the papers they argued over, both of them taking different approaches to it, before calling a truce and saying that the whole thing was stupid and needed a lot of re-wording before being even slightly useful.

However, when they got back with a red notebook in hand, they found that everything had gone to shit. That the two sides were both wrong, and that Wanda, Pietro, and Bruce agreed with their judgement; everyone was going about this wrong.

Natasha did what she’d always done when two men asked her to choose a side; she made her own.  And even though Stark and Rogers pulled side-kicks out of their asses and said they weren’t bothered by her not picking them, she knew that they were hurt.

So Clint, Wanda, Pietro, and her went on a vacation to find the Winter Soldier while Bruce stayed behind to watch the others.

And hey, if she couldn’t look the man in the eyes even after Wanda helped to heal his mind, then it was nobody’s business but her own.  And Clint’s.  But that was because he was who she wrapped herself around at night to keep the nightmares away and to keep herself from running at the first chance she got.

Natasha gave him the notebook however, along with a lighter, and watched him grin darkly as he burned the damn thing.

She wished she could do that to Madame Headmistress, but then remembered the bloody ballet shoes in her hoard at the Tower and made a mental note to practice her aim on them when she got back. Then burn them. Scatter the ashes in the woods of her hunting cabin (that she might as well also burn down well she was at it).

Natasha grinned viciously, before Wanda cast her a concerned look and she schooled her features back into a mask.

 

The siberian HYDRA base was not easy to find, but it was easy to break into, and the other Winter Soldiers were like dolls as they sat there with glassy eyes. She shot them all in the head, ignoring the way Barnes blanched. “We can’t help them.”

Zemo was easy to subdue when he couldn’t use the trigger words against them, and she almost let Barnes pummel his face into mush, only stopping him for the reason that someone else needed the satisfaction more.

Natasha found a tape attached to a machine already, and upon playing it, frowned deeply. Tony would have to know. She turned and found the main computers, downloading as much material about the Winter Soldier’s programming as she could.

A metal hand clamped down on her shoulder.

She tried to keep her voice steady, but heard it waver slightly. “Tony has to see that tape. You murdered his parents. But I don't necessarily want him to kill you, so I’m going to show him that it wasn’t your fault.”  The grip loosened.  “If you think I would let this information get into the wrong hands you should kill me now.”

There was no response, but the hand disappeared. 

She let out a shaky breath.  

They took a flash drive, a tape, and Zemo’s bearly alive body, leaving only ashes.

 

Natasha got a message from Bruce as Clint flew the jet home.

Muttering a few curse words in Russian that earned her curious looks, she made her way to the cockpit. “Turn it around. We have a party to crash in Germany.”

Clint groaned. “Whyyyyy?”

She messed up his hair. “We might want the whole fam-damily to be _alive_?”

“Good point.” He turned the plane around. “Next stop, Germany!”

Natasha sighed. “Guess I should get on sorting this out.” She called up one of her favorite contacts, Pepper Pots. “Hey Pepper. I need some help with a situation…”


	14. Civil War

Steve and Sam ran towards a helicopter, when suddenly something hit it, the whole thing shutting down and fizzling from the EMP in the small dart. 

Tony, Rhodey and Vision landed a little ways away. “Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?” Tony’s voice was sarcastic.

“Definitely weird.” Rhodey nodded.

Steve’s face went pinched, like he'd sucked on a lemon. “Hear me out, Tony. That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this.”

There was a silent landing from the Black Panther, who nodded to Steve. “Captain.”

“Your Highness.” 

Tony didn’t look impressed. “Anyway… Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?”

“You're after the wrong guy.”

“Your judgement is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.” Tony’s voice was cold.

Steve’s tone turned almost pleading. “And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't.” 

Tony’s face was tired. “All right, I've run out of patience. Underoos!”

Spiderman flipped over, snatching up Steve’s shield.

“Nice job, kid.” Tony complimented Spiderman.

“Thanks. Well I could have stuck the landing a little better, it's just… New suit. I mean it's nothing, Mr Stark. It's perfect. Thank you.”

“Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation.”

“Okay." The teen nodded to Steve. "Cap. Captain. Big fan. I'm Spider-Man.”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, we'll talk about it later.”

“You've been busy.”

Tony turned on Steve. “And you've been a _complete idiot_. I'm trying to keep-... I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

Steve’s eyes were cold. “You did that when you signed.”

“All right, we're done.” Tony clenched his jaw, voice flat. “You're gonna come with us, now, because it's us… or a squad of JSOC guys with no compunction about being impolite.” Tony’s eyes were desperate now.  “Come on.”

Sam was about to say something, when a jet flew in and landed only meters away, the back hatch opening. 

Natasha stepped out, the others following her, Barnes dragging Zemo’s limp body.

“Hey boys.” She smiled at them. “I see that you aren’t playing very nice… That’s too bad. I brought you presents.”  She motioned, and Barnes tossed Zemo forward, all the while glaring at the man with a murderous expression. 

“This is Zemo. He’s a dick. He planted the bomb at the U.N. council and framed Barnes here, then was going to use the other Winter Soldiers, who are dead now, to lure all of you idiots to Siberia and pit you against each other. Which, by the way, I see you need _no help_ in doing.”

T’challa looked a bit shaken. 

Natasha smiled at the king, waving her hand. “He’s of no use to any of us, your highness. All yours. Barnes already got to rough him up a bit though. Hope you don't mind.”

T’challa came forward slowly and bowed his head slightly. “Thank you. This will not be forgotten.” He turned to Barnes, who stiffened slightly. “I am sorry for my actions. If you need anything…” There was a pause, before the king dragged Zemo off.

Tony looked at her like she’d kicked his puppy. “You’re helping them? They have warrants for their arrests!”

“Not any more. A friend of mine and Bruce’s has pretty damning evidence against Ross, so everything he’s ordered has been taken into consideration. Plus with the evidence I gave a friend, Barnes is considered a Prisoner Of War. So everyone’s off the hook, and you...” She winked at Tony. “Are free from the accords as of about an hour ago! Turns out that some of the language in them can be very concerning when some of the board members are outed to have ties to hate groups against mutants and people with powers.”

“How-”

“I have a good friend in hacking.” Natasha had to remember to thank FRIDAY.

Clint clapped his hands. “Okay! Now that we sorted  _ that  _ out, can we get something to eat?”

Suddenly a man seemed to grow into being next to Spiderman. “Oh, well that was easier than expected.”

Spider Man grinned up at the man. “That was badass! How’d you do that? Do you have shrinking powers or-”

Natasha sighed, blocking out everything as she turned to the plane, ready to go home and take a hot shower. 

A metal hand clamped on her shoulder and she stiffened. She could hear Madame Headmistress’ voice in her head, disapproving, as the Winter Soldier beat her to the ground. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She shrugged off his hand, not even looking back. “Really. Please... Don’t  _ ever  _ mention it.”  She walked quicker than usual away from him and it felt like losing, like she was showing weakness with every hurried stride she took.

That night she sought out Clint anyway, even though they didn't have to share a cramped hotel room, shaking. 

He took one look at her and moved to the side, not saying a word.

And if the next morning they didn’t go down to the common room because she didn’t feel like moving if she wasn’t running away, no one bothered them.


	15. Avoiding Winter's Chill

Natasha avoided Barnes like the plague.  And Steve too, because at the moment, they were connected at the hip.

She knew that Steve wanted them to be friends because Clint had warned her that he was telling Barnes about her, but she did everything in her power to not be where they were.  Even if that made her resort to reading in a corner of Tony’s lab where the two super soldiers still weren’t allowed (because even though the files made Tony think twice, he still wanted to bash Barnes’ head in).

Eventually it came to a head when she’d been going to get hot chocolate for Clint, and upon seeing Barnes and Steve waiting for her, quickly pressed a different floor.  It was the corner of Tony’s lab, curled up like a wounded cat, where Clint and Tony found her three hours later.

“So why is Barnes your kryptonite?”

She made a face at that. 

“Tasha, you need to get help with this. As much as i’m not opposed to the cuddling, your nightmares are just getting worse. Now come on. You either need to talk to us or take a run.”

Natasha stood, face impassive as she strolled to the private elevator to the garage. “If he follows…”

Clint nodded. “I’ll give him the low-down.” 

She signed 'Thank You' as the door closed.

 

Natasha found herself in Tokyo, wig and face modifier helping her walk in plain sight. She didn’t use safehouses, barely slept.

The Winter Soldier was coming after her.  She knew it.

It felt like her personal version of hell, feeling like everywhere she went there were eyes watching her, and she finally gave in and went back to her hunting cabin after a month.

All the way there she found herself somewhat okay with the idea of being decommissioned. 

The team had new members, fresh faces that would keep them together. They’d be alright.

 

There was a man sitting in her chair, long blonde hair shining even in the dim light, though his usual smile was missing. “Heimdall told me of your troubles.”

Natasha looked past him, to the gun case almost longingly, before slumping down in a cold chair. “Thor.”

“Friend Natasha, what about this man makes you so upset? Because if he has hurt you in the past-”

Natasha put a hand up to stop his loud rant before it started. “He was part of my childhood.” She let herself slump in the chair. “He was one of the people that trained us… I know that he isn’t the same person, that he was brainwashed, but- but he has the same eyes.”

Thor nodded.

“I can’t-” She shook her head. “I can’t look him in the eyes without seeing the red room.”

“It’s okay.”  Natasha looked up at Thor.  “I’m here to take you home, but believe me, that man is just as upset over what he’s done as you are… You said you have red in your ledger? He has double.”

Natasha nodded, knowing the words rang true.

Thor stood, sweeping her into his arms. “To the Tower?”

She grinned. “Am I flying AirThor?”

“You are!”

 

By the time Thor gently landed, Natasha was fast asleep in his arms. He pressed his hand to the panel on the balcony, the glass door sliding open.

Tony was standing there, arms crossed. “So?”

“Barnes, he is troubling her, bring the past into her mind.” Thor gently set her down on the sofa.

Tony frowned. “I'll tell Steve to back off… But keep an eye on her, won't you?” After earning a nod, Tony stalked off, muttering to FRIDAY about methods of killing supersoldiers.

There was a still silence until a man stepped out of the shadows, causing Thor to stand up, before realizing who it was.

“She doesn't like me.”

Thor sat down, sighing. “Your eyes. They remind her of a time long ago. Cover them.”

Bucky froze for a second before nodding jerkily. “I will. Thank you.”

Thor watched the man pad away silently, before sitting back down and watching over the redhead.


	16. Sunglasses

When she awoke to the smell of bacon and pancakes, she found Thor smiling gently down at her. “Good morning m’lady.”

Natasha glanced to the kitchen. “Who's up?”

Thor gently helped her up, guiding her towards the kitchen. “Everyone.”

She went to pull away, but froze when the whole kitchen turned to look at her. Glancing around she noticed that everyone was normal… except… Bucky was wearing big sunglasses that made him look like a fool. She met where she assumed his eyes were, only to find that she didn't feel the nervous urge to run away. 

It wasn’t hard to tell who had told the man to wear the ridiculous sunglasses. She smiled up at Thor gently and pushed herself up on her toes, laying a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Rude!” Tony eyed her over a steaming mug of coffee, hair a mess. “I want cheek kisses in the morning!”

Thor chuckled, grinning wide. “That kiss is but for me, Anthony, because I have earned it!”  

Natasha rolled her eyes as Clint, Tony, and Thor got into a squabble over something that she was already tuning out. She padded up behind where the twins were sitting on bar stools. “Hey kiddos. Haven't seen you in forever.”

Wanda smiled while Pietro jumped up, wrapping himself around her. “Tasha!”

When he let her go, she turned to the group. “Sorry about my… absence lately. I’ve been kind of caught up in what seemed like a bad dream.” She snagged Pietro's coffee, sliding out of reach when he lazily tried to take it back. 

Clint munched on a piece of bacon from across the room, eyes glinting. “By the way Tasha, I think that you might need a new hunting cabin.” He grinned, pulling something out of his pocket and tossing it to her.

Natasha looked down to see she was holding a familiar blood splattered painting's edge. She scowled at the man. “Clinton! Why did you deface my favorite painting!”

Clint slammed his mug down, the coffee sloshing over onto the counter. “It was covered in some guy’s blood! Nat be reasonable! You are not going to die in some run down cabin! You’re lucky I didn’t burn the place down!”

She frowned down at the fragment of painting in her hands. “I’m keeping this in the hoard.”

He snorted. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Does the blood make the painting better?”

The kitchen froze.

Natasha looked at Barnes, at those ridiculous glasses. “It might.”

The man just nodded. 

“...So what is this… hoard?” Sam looked nervous at the tension in the room.

“You.” She grinned at him. “You’re all part of it. Each and every one of you. I stole something of yours.” 

(In her defense she would never  _ actually  _ do that... well things they used regularly anyways.)

They all looked alarmed and she grinned, slinking out of the room. “Good luck finding out what!”


	17. Stroll Around Town

Natasha sparred with Barnes, Steve and Clint. 

She ran with Sam, taught Wanda how to dance, played Mario cart with Thor and Pietro. 

But something in her still poked at her brain, whispering to run away. To leave. That she didn't belong here.

Natasha was going to go to Thor, but the he Wanda and Pietro had left earlier with the premise of helping Wanda with her control her magic, claiming that Asgard was the best place to be. 

So she went to the next best person.

 

Natasha dropped from the vents, landing in front of Bruce, who was meditating calmly. The man sighed. “Clint…”

“Guess again.” She sank into a sitting position and he opened his eyes, looking almost surprised. 

“Natasha?” He blinked. “What can I do for you?”

She shrugged. “I’m bored.”

Bruce smiled. “I’m sure Tony has some errands for you…”

"Barnes is getting his arm looked at." She smirked. "I wouldn’t trust Tony not to try to put a flamethrower in the new arm or something.”

“And you-”

“Do you think that the shopping list has stuff to get?” She knew that coming was a mistake. Bruce could see through her like soggy paper.

“I’m sure there are ways to stay away from the tower without going on a run… If you need someone to vouch for you, I can... but you know-”

“Great. Thanks Bruce.” She stood, striding quickly out of the room.

 

Natasha was getting strange looks in Starbucks, wearing a more casual version of her training uniform, but she didn't let it bother her. 

She had a coffee in hand, strolling through a farmers market and just casually ignoring the stares directed her way, when a small girl ran up to her. 

“Are you Black Widow?”

She knelt down, taking off her sunglasses, smile on her lips. “I am. And who are you?”

“Mindy!” A woman ran over, eyes going wide when they saw Natasha. “Oh my, I am so sorry for-”

“Mommy it’s Black Widow!”

The woman smiled at her apologetically. “I am so sorry...”

Natasha just smiled with a shake of her head. “Hey Mindy do you want my sunglasses?”

The little girl looked starstruck. “Really?”

“Really.” Smiling, she carefully put the cat-eyed glasses on the girl, taking out her phone and turning around. “Smile!”

The girl beamed as Natasha took a selfie, before looking up at the mom. “What’s your number? I’ll text you the picture.”

The mom answered, flustered, and she sent the picture to her. Patting the girl’s head, she smiled. “I have to go, but I’ll see you around. Okay?”

“Okay!”

Natasha waved, sipping her coffee as she made her way through the farmer’s market towards the tower. 

She was just a few blocks away when the ground shook and a loud explosion made her head snap up.

The top floors of the tower exploded outwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think happened?  
> 


	18. Between A Rock and A Hard Place

Immediately after the explosion, Natasha dropped her coffee, starting to run as fast as she could for the base of the tower. She got to the base of the tower, finding it was already cordoned off by the police.

A detective stopped her. “Miss I can’t let you-”

Natasha pulled her guns out, eyes frigid. “Let me though, or I will  _ shoot  _ my way through.”

The man blinked before a voice came from a little ways away. “Black Widow! Put down those guns! Rookie let her through goddammit!”

She lowered her guns, stalking past the detective and frowning at Fury. “Assessment.”

“Three of the living floors, Tony’s lab, and the common room were targeted.”

“Damage.”

“Minimal. FRIDAY is not responding, but image shows that the windows were blown out. Not much damage to structure or the insides.”

Natasha took a deep breath. “I need up there.”

“Widow we don’t know what’s up-”

“Fury...”

“Your rooms were targeted. We need you to stay-”

“Not happening. Get me up there or I start calling in favors.” 

They stared each other down, her not blinking until Fury sighed. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He pointed to a quinjet a little ways away. “Take that. It’ll return once you’re inside the Tower.” 

She started for it.  He caught her arm. “Be careful.”

Natasha saluted mockingly. “Yes sir.”

 

Natasha strapped her knives to her thighs, slipping on her Widow Bites. 

She was going for stealth. 

Landing the jet on the pad, she got out and watched as it flew back to the ground, before putting in a comm. “Fury. Widow reporting.” Her voice was soft as she crept through the glass, into the hallway leading to the common room.

“Widow. See any hostiles?”

Natasha was about to report the suspiciously clear line of sight, when the comm fizzled out. He stomach sank. “Fury. Come in Fury!” She hissed out a string of Russian curses when static was all that came through, crushing the comm under her boot. “Guess someone shut down more than just FRIDAY.”

She swung around the corner, knives raised. She froze when she saw Sam knocked out on the floor, Steve kneeling next to him. “Steve? Is he okay?”

Natasha started forward, but paused when Steve looked up slowly. 

“Steve? Steve talk to me…”

The normally kind blue eyes where blank, devoid of any care, any recognition.  She took a step back when the man stood almost mechanically, walking forward like he was approaching a target.

Natasha sheathed her knives, holding up her hands. “Steve… If this is some sort prank with Clint, I don’t think-” He lunged at her, wrapping his hands around her thought and slamming her against the wall hard enough she felt her head spin. “Steve?”

There was still no emotion in his eyes, and she decided that this wasn’t her Steve.  Not the Steve that made Oatmeal after they spared and always had extra hot chocolate when she couldn’t sleep.

Natasha kicked him in the chest, using the wall for leverage and sending him stumbling back. She frowned. “I’m sorry Steve. Really.” 

She grabbed a piece of the metal window frame, hitting him over the head. 

He crumpled.

Natasha frowned down at his body, hoping that would keep him down until whatever had done this wore off. She padded past Sam, pausing only to grab the duck tape out of a drawer in the kitchen and tape him to the coffee table.

Just then a rumble shook the building and she heard the familiar roar of the Hulk. “Shit.”

She started down the hallway to the smaller guest rooms, clearing most of them until she got to the game room, finding Clint standing, back away from her.

“Clint? You okay?” 

The second he started to turn she was running down the hallway. That wasn’t Clint. Clint didn’t move like that.

She heard footsteps after her and vaulted over the couch, rolling for cover. Natasha stood, couch in between them. “Clint. I really don't want to do this whole mind control thing again.”

There was a silence from the stranger with Clint’s face. Then two knives were drawn.

“Okay. There’s my answer. This isn’t a prank anymore.”

Clint launched at her, and she barely blocked his knife from slashing her arm. She dodged another swipe, flipping away and throwing a chair at him.

Movement caught her eye and Steve stood slowly, looking at her before going to rip at where Sam was struggling. 

Her heart stopped. 

They were working together. 

She was so screwed.

Natasha hissed when Clint hit her across the face with the butt of his knife, grinning something cruel. She kicked him, then dodged another slash. Focusing on Clint, she engaged him in an intense hand to hand combat while avoiding his blades. 

The was movement out of the corner of her eyes and she stepped out of the way, barely avoiding the coffee table that flew past her head and soared out the window. 

“Oh, Stark’s  _ not  _ going to like that.”

Natasha charged her widow bites, aiming a shock to Clint, watching him crumble and then dodging a fist swinging at her. She kicked Sam in the chest, sending him flying and using both her widow bites on Steve, who stayed standing for far longer than normal before collapsing.

Breathing heavily, she stalked to the closest vent, prying it open and climbing in.

 

Natasha dropped down into Tony’s lab, hissing as she realized that she must have twisted her ankle during the fight and not even realized it. The exhaustion was kicking in now. She pulled up the hard line for communication. “Fury?”

A relieved sigh. “Widow. Report.”

“They’re some sort of brainwashed. All of them. Either magic or some type of easily spread contaminant…”

Fury made a command off to the people she imagined were trying to listen in. “Widow, you have to make sure none of them get out of the tower.”

Natahsa sighed heavily knowing that he would say that. “I know that. Good news is they seem to have locked up most of their weapons... You have to get Pepper to lock down the tower. She’s the only one with external access.”

Natasha heard a clunking coming from the vents and cursed. “Fuck. They’re already-”

Barnes dropped down to the ground, standing slowly.

“Widow?”

Natasha took a deep breath. That wasn’t Barnes. That was the man who had taught her in the Red Room. “It’s the Soldier.”

“Get out of there! Widow that's a command! Do not engage!”

She eyed the man stalking towards her. “Just get the lockdown.”

“Wid-” 

Natasha threw the device across the room, before looking at the man. “Soldat.”

Cold blank eyes that she knew all too well met hers.

“You sure you don't wanna just talk this-” 

A metal hand grabbed her wrists, crushing the widow bites and throwing her across the room against the wall. 

Hissing, she stood up quickly. “That hurt. I think my ego’s bruised.”

Natasha ducked, metal fist slamming into concrete, kicking his knee out and punching him in the throat. 

With a blink he caught her arm and slammed his metal arm into her ribs.  She heard a crack and white hot pain shot through her chest. 

She slashed him with a knife as a last resort, kicking him back. Then the second she could, she jumped on a nearby table and swung herself into the vent, trying to ignore the pain. 

Natasha was almost away when she felt a metal arm close around her ankle.

On instinct she curled around, stabbing her knife between the plates of the arm and making him let go of her.

 

Natasha got to Thor's floors, climbing out of the vent shakily. 

She watched as metal plating comes down, the security measures Stark had put in after too many of his windows got broken by super villains. 

Natasha was locked inside the tower.

“Well… there goes suicide…” Grinning darkly, she looked down at her arm. It was slowly but steadily turning purple. “And I guess that i’m not winning any modelling contests soon…” 

She shook her head at the fact that she was pulling a Tony; using humor to keep herself calm. 

The footsteps are the only thing that keeps her from getting a concussion from the metal plated fist that had been swung at her. Tony has a single gauntlet on, the wiring screwed up, and she assumes the repulsers don’t work.

Natasha smiles faintly as she dodges him, backing up. “Sorry for not giving you that kiss on the cheek, but I don't think I deserve this.”

Tony goes to swing at her and she side-steps, uses her momentum to knock him out on the wall. She cringes. “Oops. Sorry about that.”

Natasha sits on top of the fridge, munching on cold pizza while she muses over her situation. The kitchen is empty, torn apart like the rest of the tower. 

She’s alone, mostly unarmed, in a tower with people she couldn’t hurt (or didn’t want to) that wanted to hurt her.

Sliding down off her perch carefully, she takes a sip of one of Steve’s forgotten protein shakes and grabs a banana.

The glass covering the floor of the kitchen is glinting in the light, and it almost looks strangely beautiful to her. She wonders if she should take a photo for Steve. Pulling out her phone she hesitantly takes a picture, and then takes a selfie of her frowning. She’d paste that all over the tower when this was over, make the others feel guilty.

Maybe Stark would make her new Widow Bites or design a new _cooler_ weapon for her.

She’s lost in thought when the sound of soft footsteps reach her ears and she throws herself flat against the wall, stuffing her phone in her boot. 

Clint stands in the doorway, fixing her with a look of hate.  Natasha knows he’s brainwashing, some sort of biological weapon making him act like this, but it still makes her stomach twist. 

“Barton.” She’s backing her way out of the kitchen, keeping her eyes on him. 

Clint stalks towards her. 

She maneuvers around the bar, knowing she’s no match for him with her injuries. “Barton...” 

Clint is already pulling a knife out of the wooden block. The metal glints under the light.

Natasha takes another step back.

He rushes forward and she kicks the knife out of his hand, making it fly across the floor before she kicks out his feet, grabbing some zip ties from a drawer. 

(And for a second, a wave of relief rushes through her whole body that Wanda wasn’t trying to kill her, that her twins were on another planet. That Thor would never have that blank stare on his face as he tried to hurt her. She wondered if Vision was even in the Tower, or if he’d gone into the containment rooms in the very basements.)

She hears the footsteps too late and a knee collides with her ribs, sending her to the ground.

From her position on the floor, she can see Steve’s cold blue eyes. “Steve. Can I say it’s  _ not  _ nice to see you?” 

Steve lunges for her, and she flips herself upward. Her ribs protest painfully, and it slows her down long enough for Steve to grab onto her ankle and pull her back down to the ground. 

Natasha goes to slash at him, but Steve reaches out and rips the knives from her hands, throwing them away. He roughly grabs her by the throat and she fights him, kicking Steve in the gut. He winces, but maintains his grip and then he’s pressing, closing off the air to her brain. 

When he lets go, Natasha collapses back to the floor, panting as spots dance though her vision. “Steve...” 

Steve kneels beside Clint and starts tugging at the ties. 

Natasha pushes herself up shakily, knowing that if they team up she’s done for.  As she runs, she can hear footsteps behind her and pushes herself to run faster. This was a real hunt, and if she didn’t get away, she’d soon be very dead prey.

Reaching the stairwell, she jumped down the landings, using her balance to her advantage. 

Parkour bitches.

Her rooms are locked, shut tight. She frowns, throws her weight against the door, but it’s shut fast.  It’s evidence enough that the others had tried to protect the outside world, but part of her wished they hadn't. She’d feel better with weapons in her hands.

With footsteps approaching, she scrambles to keep moving.  But she can’t run forever. She knows  _ that  _ from experience. 

Maybe she can hide? 


	19. Destroying Home

 

Natasha’s cramped in the corner of a clothset, breath coming short and her ribs hurt with every inhale.

She hears movement, freezes, and— Someone stabs a knife into her thigh. 

It’s small, the blade only a few inches long, but she’s hissing in pain. The knife retracts and Sam’s standing over her, bloodied knife in hand. 

Natasha takes a deep breath, lets it out in a frustrated sigh. “Fuck  _ this _ .” 

She pulls Sam into the closet, avoiding his knife, before closing the door on him. Hearing the sound of Sam throwing himself at the door as she stumbles away on a bleeding leg.  She rips off a part of one of the curtains, wrapping her wound and almost found herself hoping she’d die from blood loss before one of her friends killed her. 

And there it was. 

They were her friends.

Family.

What a way to realize, trapped alone, waiting to die.

 

Natasha walks into a room, only realizing a second too late that she made a horrible mistake.

A metal plated fist hits her square in the jaw. She stumbled back as pain wracks her head and sees Tony.

The second hit connects solidly with her knee and Natasha collapses to the floor. 

Tony takes a step closer.

Adrenaline pushes her to move. She rolls to the side, sweeping the billionaire’s feet out from under him with her uninjured leg, before straddling him quickly, twisting Tony’s arms behind his back. 

They’re not going to stop, and the realization kicks her in the face. None of them are going to stop until they catch her… 

And if she falters, the broken remains of the Avengers will kill her.

Natasha shakes her head. “Tony, this isn’t your fault. I want you to know that this isn’t your fault.” She knows he can’t or won’t hear her like this, but the man is warm, wearing one of her favorite soft band t-shirts, so she has to try. “I forgive you.”

She then knocks Tony out and goes to find Fury again.

 

Natasha finds the communication device beneath a desk in the workshop and she practically jumps up and down in relief.

She clears her throat, “Fury?”

The reply comes quickly, Fury sounding unnaturally frantic on the other end, “Widow! You know not to go dark like that!”

“Sorry sir. Barnes found a way into the lab.”

“Status report.”

“Better than Budapest.”

Fury paused. “Widow... We have a cure. We finished a little while ago, but because of the steel, we haven’t been able to get in to transfer it to the Avengers’ systems.”

“So bring the steel up.”

“Pepper is right here, doing just that. We needed you to know first. You have to play defense.”

Natasha swallowed. “Keep their focus on me then. Got it.”

Fury sounds almost apologetic, in a way that only she can recognize after years of working with him. It only makes her feel worse. “We can’t have them getting out.”

“I know.”

“Tony probably has a few things you can use around the lab.” 

She nods, looking through the draws, until she finds a set of old Widow Bites Tony must have forgotten about. It’s a relief to finally have something to defend herself with.“Thanks boss.”

“The steel is raised.”

Natasha wets her lips. “Sir… You know I’m coming back to you, right? Can’t have you lose your best agent.”

Fury pauses for a second, then his voice comes out irritated, but she knows by the slight tremor in his voice that he’s thankful. “You better Widow.”

Her voice is soft. “Goodbye sir.”

On the other end she hears Fury audibly swallow. “Get to work Agent.”

 

She finds the three free Avengers on the stairs. Barnes has found his way to Steve and Clint. They all look up at her arrival, stilling. 

Natasha dashes back the way she came, the others right behind her. 

She assumes Bruce, Tony, and Sam are all out of the picture still, which leaves these three. 

Spinning around once she has space, she punches Steve with the Widow Bites on their highest setting, and the man goes down. Then, she doubles around to light Barnes up with the Widow Bites, before hitting him with a nearby lamp as a countermeasure. 

She sees a bit of blood, but honestly he’s a super soldier and she doesn’t feel that bad.

Clint she spars with, getting a good kick in and sending into a room, before slamming the door in his snarling face. She then pushes the couch in front of the door.

“Sorry,” Natasha pants at the door. “Hope you forgive me Clint.”

On the other side, Clint throws all his weight at the door and the wood shakes, quivering from the force. 

She limps back the way she came. 

Barnes is still unconscious up on the carpet. “Sorry,” she tells him quickly, “but I _can_ say that was extremely therapeutic.”

Natasha limps to the glass windows. The steel is gone, blue skies and buildings right there and she almost starts sobbing. There’s a freedom in seeing the people on the streets walking around that Natasha missed being trapped underneath steel walls. 

But now she’s free. She’s nearly dizzy with relief and probably the adrenaline high she’s coming off. 

The sound of footsteps get her to move, but she feels sluggish and too slow. She isn’t able to dodge the thick hand that wraps around her throat. She’s thrown and lands roughly on the floor. 

Steve follows her. 

The Widow Bites hadn’t held him for long before, so she isn't that surprised they only managed to delay the super soldier. 

Steve kicks her side, making her sprawl on the floor. She winces and he sits on her thighs, the stab wound stinging. Then he rips the Widow Bites off before she can use them.

“Steve. Please. You’ll regret this. The guilt will eat you alive.” Natasha drawls slowly, but she’s tired. 

And part of her just accepts that she’s going to die.

She just hopes he makes it fast.

Steve reaches behind him, draws on of the knives he’d knocked from her hands earlier, cuts open the top of her uniform with a precise slice. She feels her heart twisting in her chest, making it hard to breath. “Stop,” she tries weakly to block him but he just shoves her hands to the side.

And then he’s pressing the knife, slowly, ever so slowly into her lower abdomen and she’s gasping. It feels like a hot poker is being shoved through her and she’s unable to concentrate on anything outside of the pain. 

Her heartbeat is in her ears as Steve then pulls out the knife, watching with cold blue eyes as her blood starts oozing out of the wound. Her teammate seems almost detached now that he has Natasha beneath him. 

Like Steve doesn’t care that Natasha’s trembling and bleeding out right in front of him. 

“Stop... Please.” Her words do nothing as he moves, pressing the knife into the other side of her.

At least the scars would be symmetrical.

Natasha once thought she would die thinking about how she was going to end the legacy of the Red Room and greet all the people who she’d killed in hell… But now she feels clammy as blood runs down her skin and she finds that she doesn’t want to die. Not like this

“Steve...” Her head pounds. 

There’s a sound, a door slamming open. “Hey!” That’s not one of her teammates, her brain catches up. “Get off her!” 

Steve pauses, looks up. 

“Captain America?” The agent, who looks like fresh out of training glances from the blond to her wrecked form. Natasha can track the moment the Agent’s gaze lands on her stretched out body by the way his eyes go wide with horror. “Agent Romanov!” 

Steve stands, knife in hand, feral snarl returning as he advances on the Agent. 

Natasha realizes, that Steve is going to kill the rookie agent. 

“NO! STEVE!” Adrenaline returns to Natasha dizzyingly quick as she lunges forward. Her legs are weak and shaky, and she can’t stand without wobbling. “Steve, no!” 

The Agent’s eyes are on Natasha as she sways, trying to stop the man. “Widow...” 

But Steve doesn’t stop, and the agent doesn’t move, and Natasha has spent so much of today feeling useless. There are tears on her face, blood covering literally every part of her, and her shaking hands aren’t strong enough to hold Steve back. “Go! He’ll kill you! Get out!” 

The man doesn’t listen, frozen. 

Natasha grits her teeth, sweeping Steve off his feet and kicking him in the side with her good leg. Then she backs up slowly. 

When Steve stands, he doesn’t even look at the agent, tackling her instead. 

“WIDOW!” shouts the stupid newbie agent. 

Steve is hovering above her again like a wall, long torso and broad shoulders trapping her in. 

Again, Steve starts to slide the knife down, into the space just under her ribs.

She hears a shot. She sees Steve flinch as a bullet buries itself in his arm. 

“Stop!” Natasha shouts at the agent, who’s shaking but holding the gun steady, finger on the trigger. “You’re hurting him!” 

“He’s KILLING YOU,” the man shouts back. They both sound hoarse, panicked. “I’m not just going to stand here while he fucking kills you Widow!—” 

“You’re going to kill HIM!” 

Steve rocks backward, unsteady, but Natasha’s seen the man take two bullets only to get back up and save the city. Steve snarls and punches her again. 

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” That’s a strangely familiar voice, and it’s mirrored by more shouts, people pouring from the entrance way and swarming over the room. People in black combat gear just like hers holding rifles and vials of a blue liquid. 

All of them are shouting. 

Steve is ripped off her and a man replaces the space above her eyes, dark skin wrinkled in something her brain passively catalogs as concern. "Widow. You're gonna be okay. The medics will be here any minute.

Natasha's eyelids feel like they are made of molasses. "F'ry... M'ght not..." She tries to keep herself awake, coherent, knowing falling asleep was as good as a death sentence. "K'p that pr'mis..."

"You don't get to make that call." Fury sinks to her side. "Romanov you better not die on me."

She can feel herself slipping.

"Romanov! Stay with me!" Fury sounds panicked. "WHERE ARE THOSE GODDAMN MEDICS?"

"S'rry..." Natasha closes her eyes, hoping hell was better than what she'd just gone through.

 

Natasha wakes to the faint beeping of a heart monitor. 

Then the pain kicks her in the face, seeming to radiate from every inch of her. Her whole body feels stiff, useless. 

There’s a man sat in a plastic chair by his bedside. He’s disheveled, running hands through his salt and pepper hair.

“Bruce?”

Bruce looks up, meets her green eyes, and straightens in the chair, alert now. “Natasha. You’re awake.”

She attempts to nod, but that only inspires a pulsing headache. “Ow. Fuck,  _ that’s  _ a concussion.”

Bruce swallows, looking down at his hands. 

Natasha recognizes that expression. She’s seen it too often on Clint.  Grief and guilt.

What exactly had happened? 

And then it all rushed back. The steel trapping her in, the wounds, the running away… “Well. That was not how I expected this day to end.”

“Natasha you’ve been out for a week... When they got to you there was only a 60% chance you’d make it through surgery.” Bruce is on his feet, pacing in front of Natasha’s bed. “One of your ribs splintered in your chest, and with three stab wounds-”

Bloodshot eyes fix on her. 

“We thought we killed you.”

Natasha stares at him for a long second. “Don’t be ridiculous. You weren't even there. The  _ others  _ would have killed me.” She’s in too much pain to put on a comforting facade, pretend that everything is sunshine and rainbows.

“Natasha!” Bruce’s face is pale and his eyes are wet. “You could have died!”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” She smiled weakly, but she can tell he’s not appreciating her humor.

Natasha sees Bruce begin to crumple, sees the way Bruce’s mouth forms a tight, wobbling line. “You don’t get to die Natasha. Not like that.”

Then he’s crashing out of the medical room.

She almost feels bad, but the headache that she gets when she tries to sit up to go after him makes her sit back down. 

She’d let guilt eat away at her insides later.


	20. Old Friends, Old Threats

When Natasha wakes next, the pain is lessened and she thanked a god she didn’t believe in for the serum that the Red Room forced upon her. 

Heels click as a woman walks in, and Natasha looks over Maria Hill as she comes forward and quietly takes a seat by Natasha’s bedside. “Romanov.” 

“Hill.”

“I’m here to make a offer.”

Natasha is immediately weary. “The last had an ‘offer’, you sent me away to Budapest. If Clint hadn’t found me...”

“I’ll give you that.” Hill smiles, a little tight lipped but familiar. “But trust me. I only want what’s best.” 

Natasha nods, but remains suspicious. “Go on.” 

“I want to talk about retirement.” All the air in Natasha’s lungs leave in a single exhale. “After what happened yesterday, we think it would be best if you were retired.”

“You can’t do that. I’m a crucial part of the Avengers.”

Hill surveys her for a second then raises an eyebrow. “And you can still work with them?”

Natasha nods, her voice as close to begging as she’ll allow herself to be. “Please. They’re my friends. Almost a family.”

Maria Hill, the woman she’d known as long as both Fury and Clint, narrows her eyes. “The Natalia I knew never  _ needed  _ a family. I think you’ve gotten too attached.”

Cold creeping dread is all she feels. “I want to stay.”

“Are you sure you can you work with them like a professional after what happened?”

“I can.” Natasha vows.

Hill stares at her intently for a moment. “You understand the team is more important than just... you?”

Quietly, Natasha laughs once, sad. “I know.”

“Fine.” Hill says, and her smile is a shell of the ones she used to give Natasha. “We’ll give you a chance. Just like we gave you when you came to work for us. If you forget any of this even happened, then you’ll be allowed to remain with the Avengers. No alerting the public to the events of several days ago, including letting anyone know of your injuries. You won’t avoid your teammates or leave Stark Tower.” 

Maria Hill stands, before looking down at Natasha. 

“Remember what the punishment was back when you came to SHIELD? It’s the same as before.” 

For a second pity and sorrow flashes in Hill’s eyes, the woman that Natasha once was like sisters with emerging for a split second, before her fake smile is back. 

“This time, Clint won’t save you from Budapest. Don’t fail us Widow.”

 

Natasha calls Clint on one of the nurses stolen phones, hand shaking as she listens to it ring twice and then- 

“Barton.” His voice is flat, unfeeling.

Natasha is unsure of what to say, how to make this all better. “Clint...”

“Nat?” He sound surprised, but with underlying guilt and worry. “You should be in the hospital! Where are you?”

“I stole a phone from one of the nurses. I’m in the hospital, don't worry. Clint I-”  She pauses. She wants to tell him about Hill, about how bad the events in the Tower had shaken her, how her hands are shaking just talking to him, but she can’t herself to say any of that.

“Natasha? Are you okay?”

The worst thing is, Maria Hill had a point. The things she said, the reasons she gave, weren’t necessarily wrong. Natasha knew this. She knew about PTSD, about facing things like this. And maybe she won’t get better. Maybe she is more of an inconvenience, too hurt to even fight, too shaky to even get up and find the other Avengers. 

It’s not about her though. 

It’s about the Avengers and their PR, something she’d been bringing down lately, what with all her issues.

“I can’t… I can’t work with the Avengers anymore.” Natasha took a deep breath, ignoring her protesting ribs. “Please tell the team that I’m retiring.”

“Retire- Natasha!”

She felt her eyes start to feel itchy and cleared her throat. “This is my decision. I’m going to be retired by tomorrow and there's nothing you can do. Goodbye Clinton.”

“Nat-”

“Tell them i’m sorry. And Clint? Thank you.”

Natasha closes the phone, reaches over, and bumps up the morphine dosage until she can’t feel a fucking thing. She doesn't want to even be able to think for a few hours, what with the decisions she'd have to make.

 

Natasha sits in the cafeteria, watching people mill around. Her body is beginning to ache, metabolism going through the last of her painkillers. She should be resting, certainly shouldn’t be out of bed, but that’s never stopped Natasha before. 

She’d had to get out of her medical room, even if she only managed to get to the cafeteria before collapsing. She wouldn’t be able to escape into the familiar streets of New York, as much as she desperately wants to see as much as she can before her time’s up. 

The cafeteria, with the rookie and novice agents talking amiably is all she gets.

“Fuck.” She runs her fingers through her tangled hair. Her hands are shaking, heartbeat frustratingly fast. “Fuck.” 

Somewhere along the way, the Avengers had become more to her. 

The thought of never seeing Thor’s beaming face, to never see the way Wanda smirked as she teased the others, to never see Sam smacking Steve out of a reckless plan, to miss the way Tony would roll his eyes at her, to never have Clint try and steal food off her plate, Pietro never throw his arm casually over her shoulders, to never share youtube videos of cats with Vision, to never have Bruce to fall asleep against during movie nights... is just... 

_ Unthinkable _ . 

And then someone sits down at the table with her.

“Um… Look this might be a bad time… but aren’t you Black Widow?”

She looks up at a skinny teenager with big brown eyes and floppy brown hair. “Yeah. I am.”

“Wow okay i'm a huge fan and-" The teen pauses, apparently just seeing her for the first time and she imagines she looks like shit. "You okay? You got pretty beat up. The media’s going crazy about you being carted out of the Avengers tower.”

Natasha winces, realizing why Maria Hill had seemed so cold. Then she actually took a good look at the kid, frowning. “And _why_ are you in SHIELD?”

“I- uh- Well I had to go see this guy… about some web stuff. Internet. Y’know?”

“Got it.” She stood shakily. “Well it’s nice to meet you Spiderman, but I have to get out of here before Agent Hill decides to retire me to Budapest.”

“Hey!” The kid jumps up after her. “How’d you know i’m Spiderman? And why’s Hill going to retire you? Is that bad?”

“You talk a lot.” Natasha raises an amused eyebrow at the kid and when she swayed to the side, he helped balance her, slipping under one of her arms easily. 

“Sorry.”

She shook her head, moving with him. “No it’s okay… Retirement for spies is- well it’s making sure we can’t talk.”

“They wanna get you killed?” The boy’s eyes widen. “But you’re the Black Widow!”

“Yeah.” She grins at the teen. “That’s _why_ they want to get rid of me.”

The boy seems to consider that. “Well, you could stay with me? Only Director Fury knows who I am. And my Aunt’s a nurse…”

Natasha consiters her options, before smiling down at the boy. “Deal. I’ll even help you train when I heal up.”

“Whohoo! Black Widow’s gonna help me train!” 

“Call me Natasha.” 

 

She’s wraped in the her softest hoodie, her favorite faded jeans, and sneakers; slouch beanie and thick glasses hiding her face. 

Natasha's head feels weird, her hair having been sheared into a 'pixie cut' and died blonde by Peter, who had claimed he'd watched too many youtube videos when he'd broken his leg. 

The teen helped her out of SHIELD. 

Natasha trieed to keep her eyes focused forward, ignoring the stares of people they pass on the street. 

Natasha’s used to it; prying eyes, but this time she can’t help but feel uncomfortable. 

The bruises on her face probably don’t help. Her hoodie hides most of the bruising on her neck, but the people who pass close enough can still see the distinct shapes of fingers in the form of healing bruises.

When they stop at a small apartment, Natasha’s about ready to collapse, and as soon as they enter she’s sitting heavily in a chair.

“Peter! Where were you?!” A woman comes out of the other room, before stilling and looking at Natasha. “Who-”

“Natasha Romanov. Black Widow.” Natasha muttered, lifting her hoodie and looking at the blood-soaked bandages. “Fuck…” 

“You- What happened? Peter help me get her in the kitchen!”

Peter, the teenager, then was lifting up Natasha like she was nothing and laying her down on a cool counter.

Natasha grinned at the ceiling. “The stab wounds were from good ol’ Captain America. Goes to show that he isn’t as vanilla as everyone thinks...”

The woman, this ‘Aunt May’, huffs and starts to clean Natasha’s wounds. “And any other injuries I should know about?”

“Broken ribs, stab wound in the thigh, twisted ankle, and some minor cuts on my wrists.”

“Jesus…”

Natasha tilts her head back, relaxing into the table. “Yeah? How do I look?”

Peter pursed his lips. “You look like you were hit by a bus. Several buses, in fact.”

“Do you know what happened? The other day, with the Avengers?” 

“You mean how you got all…” Peter waves a hand at her. 

Natasha nods. 

“Yeah, the news got some footage of you being carted out, and then some information was leaked.”

Natasha sighed. “I was told I should make an effort to act like nothing happened when they’re around. SHIELD doesn’t want me to freak out when they get near.” 

“You probably will anyways.” Aunt May looks up from where she’s stitching Natasha together. “But that doesn’t matter. You’ll have every right to take your time. They’ll understand.” 

Natasha shakes her head. “I can’t let that happen. Can’t even talk to them.”

Peter looked at his Aunt. “They’re threatening to kill her.”

May freezes, then looks at Natasha. “Can they find you here?”

Natasha shakes her head. She’d made sure no one knew she was here except Fury, the whole of SHIELD was under the impression she'd been retired. Fury had also sent out word though a few sources of his that she'd been retired, just encase Clint got it in his head that she wasn't dead. Plus Fury had locks of her hair for proof, so she wasn't going to get anyone looking for her anytime soon.

“Then you’re more than welcome to sleep on the couch.”

“I have a bunk bed! You could take the bottom!”

Natasha looked to May, who just rolled her eyes and nodded. She  smiled at the boy. “Okay Peter-man. You’re on. But you better not snore like Hawkeye.”

“Hawkeye snores?!” Peter looked liked she’d made his week.


	21. Why Run?

She falls asleep easily that night, Peter’s soft breathing lulling her into a deep sleep.

 

Natasha’s sitting in the common room, when someone steps into the room and she looks up. Steve is standing at the edge of the room.

“Steve.” Natasha greets, setting down her book, a smile on her face. 

Steve’s lips remain pressed in a tight, cold line, even as his eyes burn, a scalding intensity that has Natasha pressing herself back into her chair. 

“Steve?” 

And then he’s over her, pinning her down, knife in hand.

She thrashes uselessly. Her arms are useless, and her legs won’t move. She moves her head to the side to cry for help, but Clint is just sitting calmly in the chair next to hers. Watching, his eyes glinting with something dangerous that makes her want to cry. 

“Clint- Please!” 

Clint just sneers, ugly and hateful. “What? You want help?” He stands up, shaking his head as she walks away. “Pathetic.” 

The man who had saved her so many times walks away, not even looking back as Steve Rogers plunges the knife into her heart.

Natasha wakes up gasping, shaking.

 

When she can breath again, she sighs, closing her eyes.

“You okay?”

Jumping, she blinks, seeing Peter in his red and blue Spiderman suit under a hoodie. The window’s open and he’s sitting on the fire escape. “Peter. You startled me.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

She carefully moves to sit next to him, watching the city. “I keep getting nightmares… About the team.”  Peter is silent.  "I feel so helplessness.”

“I know the feeling.” Peter sighs. “I’ve been working with Tony since that whole mess in Germany. And- well I got mixed up in a black market for alien weapons… I got a building dropped on me. Thought I was done for. Now when I sleep all I can dream about is that crushing feeling.”

Natasha stared at the teenager, this kid next to her. “Remind me to punch Tony for helping you get into that situation.”

“No!” Peter eyes widened. “No, no he tried to stop me! It was all my fault.”

She shook her head. “No child should have to grow up so quickly.”

“Did you? Have your childhood ruined?”

Nodding, she looked back at the city. “I was never a child to begin with.” 

They both fell silent.

“Are you going back to sleep?”

“I think I’d rather stay out here.” 

Peter nodded and climbed back inside.

 

When morning comes, Peter has already left for school. 

Natasha limps into the kitchen, finding May had already made eggs and set them out. The woman nods at the chair. “Sit. Peter said you were awake.”

Natasha sits, eating tentatively.

“How are you doing?”

Natasha takes another bite of eggs, even if she doesn't want to. “Well enough.”

“Nightmares are ‘well enough’?” May raises an eyebrow at her.

Natasha finishes the eggs, standing. “Look, I appreciate you letting me stay here, and i’ll be gone as soon as i’m healed, but that won’t work. Maybe if I had a mom…”

As she puts the plate in the sink, May stands. “Sorry, it’s just- I haven’t seen anyone treat Peter like a human and not ‘Spiderman’. I know you’re probably my age-”

“Actually I was born in 1928.”

May freezes. “That would make you- You’re ninety? What... Y’know? I don’t think I want to know.”

Natasha smiles.

May shakes her head, sitting back down. “Look, Natasha. Recovering from something like this… it’s not going to be easy, but you don’t have to rush. Take it slow.”

“I’m not sure I know how. I’ve been running since I was made like this. Running from the KGB, running from mission to mission, target to target, running from SHIELD, running from the Avengers…” Natasha sighs. “I don’t know how to stay still.”

“You don’t have to run. Not anymore... Not if you don’t want to.” May doesn’t flinch away from saying exactly what she feels and it’s refreshing. “You’re welcome here as long as you want.”

“I don't… I don't think I want to.” Natasha takes a deep breath and looks May in the eyes. “I don’t want to run anymore.”


End file.
